Scribblings
by Leesa Perrie
Summary: Jeannie finds some old poems by her brother!


**Scribblings**

**By Leesa Perrie**

It said:

'five people today; all shouted at me.

anger, hatred; all the same.

tonight I play; music,

sad and lonely.

myself to blame, only.'

It was dated 1980 and written in a ratty old notebook, buried in a box of stuff; things from childhood. A box placed in the basement, and forgotten about, until now.

Jeannie was clearing out the old family home, her mother having died a few days ago. Caleb would be coming over to help tomorrow whilst a friend looked after Madison. Meredith would not be coming, though. He said he couldn't face it; the past. She'd been angry, but not surprised. Mer had changed, she had seen it herself, but this was an old wound, and painful. More painful perhaps than she had realised.

Mom had never liked her son, and Jeannie had known that. Had heard the arguments between her parents, had heard the blame placed squarely onto Mer, by both, but mainly by Mom. She knew that she had bought into it at first, believed her older brother was to blame for all that seemed wrong in their home. But adult eyes had opened up and seen the game for what it was; that he had merely been the pawn in their ongoing war.

It had hurt when he'd walked out of her life, and yet it had not surprised her. Mer was the result of the arguments and the blame, the bullying at school, the loneliness he wrapped around himself, protecting himself from further hurt. Dad had mellowed before he died towards his son, but not enough to patch up the relationship. Mer could at least speak of him from time to time, but he never spoke of Mom, and she had never spoken of him, once he had moved out. No mellowing there, only hardening in her old age.

Jeannie knew she herself had made life difficult at times, the way little sisters did; blaming him for things she did and knowing that they would believe her, not him. But still he had cared for her, tried to shield her from the arguments. Had tried to be a brother to her, but now she knew; he had not truly known how. And even now, after all this time, he was still struggling with that; still learning.

There was another scribbling, a poem in her brother's handwriting, and oh, how he must have hidden that talent from them all. It was dated a few weeks later.

'today I lost my dream,

music gone silent.

no art, no hope, no feeling.

choose a new dream.

a new scene.'

She remembered after she had returned to Earth, the story that Carter had told her. They'd kept in touch, trading science mainly, but also stories of a certain astrophysicist. The piano story was one she had not known; had wished she had.

And she wished she had tried much harder to know her older brother; truly know him. And she hoped that she could rectify that now; that his new life, in that far off city, did not take him from her before she really had the chance to know him.

There were more of these poems, telling a story of a boy pushed aside, ignored, misunderstood, and struggling to find an identity. He had succeeded in finding an image to show to the world, an identity based on his intelligence, but oh so fragile. So insecure below the surface.

'they shout, they accuse, they blame.

I am not guilty of their lies.

they hate that which I am.

but I am not so bad.

not so mad; just sad.'

Tears pricked her eyes, and fell. This was more than just teenage angst. This was pain, raw and powerful, and undeserved. In the basement of the old family home, she finally started to get it; to get him.

'curse me, if you must,

I am who I am, for good, for bad.

you have made me

into what you feared.

I am truly weird.

by your standards

I am the strangest child

by your beliefs

I am smart, not quite sane;

I am your bane.

this is your doing,

not mine, so not mine.

I become what you fear,

so curse me, if you will.

swallow the cursed pill;

you made me.

now leave me be.'

She lost track of the time, reading the outpourings of a broken heart. Despair, anger, confusion, pain; gradually moulding the brother she had never truly understood, until now.

So engrossed was she in the past, the revelation, she did not hear the front door open, did not hear the footsteps or voice calling upstairs, did not hear the man who came down the stairs, and stood beside her.

"Oh," a quiet voice, hesitant, awkward, embarrassed. "I thought they'd have been thrown out by now."

"Mer," she breathed, hardly believing he was there.

"Yeah, I…um…I didn't think it fair to…you know…leave all this to you. Thought I should come…and help, maybe," he stuttered out in his endearing way. "Hope they never read those," he added.

"No, I don't think they did," she answered sadly. "When they packed up your things, it was done quickly and…I doubt they stopped to read anything."

He didn't need to know the unkind words that his parents had said, the way they had stuffed things into boxes not caring if they broke anything; wiping his existence from the house. She was surprised they had left it down here and not thrown it all out in the trash; was glad it had been left for her to find.

She smiled at him through her tears, pleased that he had come and knowing full well how hard this was for him; to come back to this house, these memories. Placing the notebook down carefully, she reached out and hugged him.

"I'm sorry," she said, tears silently falling. "I never knew how bad it was for you."

"You were never meant to," he replied, voice tight with emotion, awkwardly returning the hug.

And with those words, she realised just how much he had protected her as she had grown up, proving he was not so hopeless a brother as he had seemed. Protecting her not just from the arguments, but from his own problems; his fear, his pain.

He could so easily have turned her against their parents, and in doing so, turned them against her. Made her life more like his own, adding to the unhappiness in the family, but he had hidden it from her. Protected her.

She could understand now why he had been so difficult, so angry, when she had left college and married Caleb. He saw her as throwing away a promising career, everything, for something he couldn't understand; family. Had feared she would end up like her parents, unhappy in their marriage, and taking it out on their eldest child. It still didn't excuse him from walking away from her, but perhaps now she could better understand his fears for her, and how he had become a person who put achievement above all else. Something that had changed, and was still changing, due largely to his friends, his surrogate family, on Atlantis. And how sad was it, that he'd had to leave this galaxy to find a home; she was glad that he had, despite the dangers the place held.

The healing that had started on that alien city, spread further; and amongst the painful memories that the family home stirred up during the next few days of sorting and packing and clearing out, good memories emerged, just a few.

And he left her a new poem, that she found just after he had left to return to his new home, with a note apologising for its roughness, not having written anything like this for many, many years, and hoping that it would be okay. It was, very much so, in fact.

'you give me another chance,

forgive the unforgivable.

and set me free

from guilt and pain;

help keep me sane.

I bury the past

and live now, at last.'

The End


End file.
